Triumph Takes its Time

I am beginning the year for the third time. At least that’s the way I see it.

The first time I welcome it with everyone on planet Earth. With droopy eyes, I half grin at the ball falling in Times Square. That is the moment to make definitive changes, to tighten the waistline, take an extra course and write a best-selling mystery. Out of the plain, I then gallop among the herd of stallions to become the ultimate person. So much success lies straight ahead.

That lasts about a week.

I was better at taking a brisk walk and not joining great marathons while guzzling water bottles. But this year, I considered revisiting my palette of watercolors since so many life activities had pushed this creativity aside. I would paint a masterpiece. I grabbed a pencil and sketched a simple forest drawing.

Then, the second beginning happens. My birthday. It is a day, long anticipated … a countdown through the steamy haze of summer.

I was tucked into a breezy corner of a scrumptious eatery with special family and friends. It was also a day to revisit the earlier promise of the new year, to have embarked on a masterpiece … or at least some form of a painting. Sadly, I wiped the chocolate cake off my cheek realizing the pencil drawing I started had collected dust. I had to do better.

Suddenly, I was sliding into the “third beginning” of my year. If you’re wondering what the third start could be … we’re headed there in the start of September. It’s already here.

Harvest time.

Nostalgic images flood my entire being. Picking a pumpkin to display and later make into a pie. Throwing on a jacket and sniffing crisp, fall air. Eyeing the canopy of maple trees and noting the transition from green to gold, ruby and tangerine, all gently swaying; the sun’s rays etching its brilliance.

Inspiration tickled my scalp. It was time to pick up a brush. Looking upward, only swatches of color met my eye as lush green hung heavy on the branches. The umbrella of abundant foliage encircled proud, supported by the strength and girth of a tree trunk. The trunk’s thickness and breadth, deep color of sepia and burnt umber, vermillion and variant shades of gray, all caught my eye and filled the paintbrush.

Tree after tree spilled from the swirling brush as a parade of forested trunks stood straight and true, a welcoming march in freeze mode. Their source of survival buried deep - roots that anchored solid, providing sustenance and strength. Expansion prompted steady and sure, another ring of growth quietly added in secret. A huge amount of tenacity and resolve.

My brush steadily flowed the paint, embracing the picture of these saplings, persistent to become and remain. Prompting me was the sight of this splendid tree, a life form that can greatly inspire.

Finally, I put down the brush. The task I had begun nearly a year ago was finished. Each tree hardy and robust, standing proud. A simple masterpiece, heralding a life all its own.

Triumph.

I stood back and smiled.

… “and that’s how I live it.”